


Knock-out

by Dweo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, rantmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dweo/pseuds/Dweo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is angry and he found a perfect outlet for it. Sherlock is curious and finds out the hard way what that outlet is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock-out

Sherlock stared at the door that had just been slammed shut and frowned. It had been the fourth time in three weeks John had stalked out of 221B in anger and Sherlock wondered if things would ever be normal again. He had tried hard to find out what made John angry, beyond the obvious of course. The pattern of their fights was the same every time. Sherlock would do something innocent and John would react in a way that he had to know would annoy Sherlock. Sherlock would try to keep his cool, to not anger John more and all what John would do was trying to get a rise out of Sherlock. There had been several times Sherlock had wanted to scream at John, but he knew he had lost that right. Still John would walk away angry every time. 

This time Sherlock wasn’t going to let him get away with it and he decided he was going to get an answer, even if he didn’t deserve it after those two long years.

Sherlock quickly put on his coat, and making sure he stayed out of sight, followed John. John walked only a few streets and then entered a rundown office building. Sherlock frowned. He was still updating his London database and according his memory an engineering firm should be located inside, but judging by the rundown facade and the boarded up windows, his data was frustratingly out of date again.

He strolled past the building in an attempt to assess what he would find inside. The building was clearly still in use and busy, despite its outwards appearance. The big glass door had just been serviced, according to the small label on the corner. The carpet was new, no discolouring between the parts that were in the light and those on the edge outside the sun’s reach, but it had been walked on a lot and recently too judging by the traces of wet footprints. A large ’Open’ sign on the door told him people could just walk in and the small letters below told him it was a gym.

This stopped him dead in his tracks.

A gym. 

Sherlock frowned. Why would John join a gym? He got enough exercise with Sherlock, so no need for an additional waste of energy. He knew there was only way to find out and the bold have the world, so he stepped inside.

The once large and grand entrance hall was abandoned. It was clear by the empty and disused lobby desk that nobody cared who walked inside, so he had free way. Signs on doors told him where the dressing rooms were, but the low humming noise of many people talking came from the door to the left, so he decided that was just as good as any.

He carefully opened the door and knew he was in the right place. The whole floor, where engineers had once done their calculations in small cubicles, was now a large open space, showing the former glory. But his attention was immediately drawn to the middle.

There was a boxing ring. The gym was full with boxing equipment, gloves on benches, big boxing bags to the side. Immediately Sherlock realized why John came here and Sherlock hated himself for a moment, then he was glad John decided to take his anger out on other people and not on Sherlock. A small crowd gathered around two of the corners, prepared for a match. Sherlock looked around, and made sure to remember everything. Before he could make a move a tall and burly man noticed him and walked away from the nearest group. 

“You're new.” He extended his hand with a genuine smile. He dwarfed Sherlock in every sense and Sherlock was certain he was the quiet sort of man who looked dangerous, but was the softest person in the room, until you cross his path in the wrong way. Not somebody you wanted as an enemy.

“Yeah, I saw the sign outside and I got curious.” 

“You’re welcome to look around. If you’ve any questions just ask. My name is Xander and I’m the owner.” At that point a small woman walked to him and pulled him down. She whispered something in Xander's ear. Xander looked Sherlock over the moment she moved away. The friendly look replaced by annoyance. The woman stood beside him, her arms crossed and defiance rolled of her.

“Have you boxed before?” Xander asked.

“In Uni,” Sherlock answered wearily. The whole atmosphere had changed and Sherlock was sure it was because they recognized him, which could mean bad things for him. Places like this had often a link to the underworld and there were enough people there who wanted him dead. 

Again.

“Before you can join, there’s one rule,” Xander said, his arms crossed in a defensive stance.

“And that is?” Sherlock slowly backed away, but was met with another solid figure at his back. He looked around and a man with the face of a professional fighter looked down on him. He swallowed.

“One small fight, just to show you can fight.” He pointed at the ring. “Fight our champion and you might get to join us. “ Sherlock knew he was in deep trouble, but there was no way out now. He just had to show them that he was not afraid of them and hope John would rescue him. He looked around, sure John would stop this at any moment, telling them Sherlock was a mate and they would laugh like everything had been a joke, like boring ordinary people. 

John did not appear, almost to Sherlock’s surprise because John always saved him, so he just pulled of his coat and jacket and handed them to Xander when he walked past him. 

“Be careful,” he said with a wink. The man dropped the coat with a smile and Sherlock cringed. That comment had back fired.

“Oops.” He picked up the coat again without care, “We’ll be very careful with the coat, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock cringed again. They knew who he was for sure and this was not good at all.

“Well, just get it over with.” He did enjoy boxing and if he was going to play their game, he was going to play it dirty. He walked through the large throng of people and climbed into the ring. He unbuttoned his shirt because it would only hinder him he knew. Beside it was his favourite and there was no reason to destroy it. The woman offered him a pair of gloves with a look of hatred. He pulled them on and offered his wrists to her.

“Would you mind?” The woman pulled them tight aggressively.

He turned around and hit the ground immediately.

Okay, he wasn't the only one playing dirty. He pushed himself up and looked at his opponent for the first time and that was when he realized how deep in the shit he really was.

“Hello Sherlock,” John said, while placing another right hook, using Sherlock’s short moment of surprise.

“John,” he gasped, and he brought his hands up in a defensive move. John didn’t reply, except with a hard stab to Sherlock’s stomach.

This was going to hurt. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sherlock said and he immediately knew that had been the wrong thing to say, because John replied with fast hits Sherlock could barely block. John might be a lot shorter, but that it made it easier to duck below Sherlock’s defense. 

After several long moments, John stepped back and looked at him, waiting for Sherlock to react, so Sherlock indulged him and threw a punch. He scored a hit and John stumbled for a slight moment. 

The fight became hard and dirty and Sherlock felt anger rise. John went for blood and Sherlock had no idea why. 

And that hurt. Perhaps more than the bruises forming all over his body. And hurt meant anger. And anger meant he became sloppy in his fight and defense and just as he had made an uppercut, deftly blocked by John, he let his guard slip for just a moment and that meant John had him and he ended up hanging in the ropes. He felt blood stream in his mouth and he knew John had split his lip. Sherlock got up, but before he could put up his defense again John got in three more solid hits and Sherlock could do little more than protect his face from the onslaught. He felt the sweat run down his back and judging by the stinging on his chest John had drawn blood there too.

He was losing and badly too and he wasn't sure that John would stop the moment he went down. For the first time since he had met John he was truly scared of him and to his surprise he enjoyed that feeling. Unfortunately that same moment he had that epiphany John got one in good and Sherlock went down, hitting the mat hard. John knelt down next to him and raised his glove above Sherlock’s head. Sherlock closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger in John’s face. He braced himself for pain and more, but it didn’t come. So Sherlock opened his eyes again. John looked at him, his eyes blazing. Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on John and watched as John brought his hand down onto Sherlock’s face slowly and smoothly, leaning down on his forehead. Sherlock was not sure what to make of it, but John got up and walked away without a word. Sherlock remained down too long, catching his breath. It had to be at least a minute, before he sat up, and looked at John walking away, his gloves discarded on the edge of the ring.

Sherlock stood up unsteadily, unsure what to do. Xander was the first to react and came up to him.

“Not bad,” he said. “Here, let me.” At that he untied Sherlock’s gloves. “Go talk to him. Just know that if you hurt him again, there is a long line of people who would not mind taking a piece out your hide.”

Sherlock immediately followed John, keeping the warning in the back of his mind. John had walked into what Sherlock suspected to be the changing room.

The moment he walked in John slammed Sherlock against the wall. 

“You’re a bastard, you know that.”

“Actually, my parents were happily married,” he said and he knew that had been the worst thing he could have said, because the next moment his head hit the tiled wall hard and John was mere inches from his face. His body pushed against Sherlock.

“I can kill you now and none of these men would stop me. Just one wrong hit and nobody would blame me.” Sherlock felt his body fight between the need to hit the angry thin line of John’s lips and kissing it. Sherlock cursed as he pushed John away. He buried his body’s need with regard to John a long time ago and now it reared its ugly head again.

John unfortunately didn’t take the hint and moved even closer. That was when Sherlock’s body lost the fight and he felt his cock fill.

“John,” he said. John ignored him, just kept him pinned with his body, breathing hard.

“John.” Sherlock tried again, trying to do the right thing, but John’s leg was between his, pushed against his cock and probably told John more than he wanted to know. John frowned, took a hastily step back, and looked at Sherlock.

“Are you?” he asked. 

“Please,” Sherlock pleaded, trying to shield his body.

“Shit,” John said the anger had not yet left his face, but something else had joined it and before Sherlock could react he was once again pinned against the wall, but this time by warm lips and a tongue that made its way into his mouth.

John was apparently a brilliant kisser and Sherlock felt his knees go week.

The kiss was over too soon for Sherlock’s taste and he was about to complain when John pushed his hand on Sherlock’s mouth, silencing him roughly. He put his mouth on Sherlock’s earlobe and sucked it for a moment 

“You can walk away now,” he hissed in his ear. 

Sherlock didn't; he remained and then John gave a short, but fierce bite to Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock wanted to ask something, but John shook his head. 

“No words, not now.” Sherlock nodded and John dropped to his knees and pulled the already ruined trousers down. His cock strained against his pants and John smirked. A smirk that didn't make Sherlock feel any better. John didn't waste any time and freed Sherlock’s cock, kissed it for a short moment before sucking it. He pulled it in deep, keeping it there for moment. Sherlock felt the John's tongue tense against his cock before John pulled his head away, sucking fiercely. Sherlock was glad the wall was at his back or see he would have been on the ground already.

John once again moved forward and then Sherlock felt a sharp pain. He tried to push John away the moment he realized that John had used his teeth. John moved back scraping his teeth on Sherlock’s cock all the way out. It was at the wrong side of good and now Sherlock pushed John away.

“Not enjoying yourself?” John asked, "then show me how angry you are at me for not longer being you good little helper. How angry you are for me having gone on living without you. How angry you are for me being happier when you were not here.” John looked at him challenging and Sherlock felt the anger rise. Then, he grabbed John's short hair and pushed his cock in roughly.

For a short moment there was surprise in John's face, followed by a look of relieve and then a smug smile. That was the moment Sherlock knew John had him where he wanted him. Well Sherlock wasn't going to let him get away with it that easy. If he was here for John’s pleasure he was going to enjoy it too. So he pushed in harder than he would have done with any other partner. John closed his eyes and his teeth for a moment. Sherlock let the pain ground him as he pushed on feeling his cock hit the back of John's mouth. He stayed still enjoying the feeling of John's desperate swallowing around him. He watched as he saw John's eye tear up from the lack of oxygen. Sherlock pulled back, letting John catch his breath. The only thing keeping him up was Sherlock’s strong grip on his hair. 

Sherlock gave John just to short time to catch his breath and then started to fuck his mouth in honest. Pushing his cock in deeply every time. He watched John's throat swallow around him, and he moved even harder and rougher. This was not all about his pleasure and no longer about the anger he had felt ever since he had returned. John’s face had become calm and he let himself be used. Sherlock knew he was being too rough he knew John would feel it in the morning and that only drove him on even more. He felt his orgasm build too soon and he pulled out still holding John's hair in his and came all over John's face. 

He drank in the sight of John all submissive at his feet. Trying to get his breath back trying to remain standing, but then a triumphant smirk appeared on John's face and Sherlock realized he might have made a miscalculation. He was sure when John came to his feet ignoring the come dripping from his face pushing Sherlock against the wall 

“Enjoyed that?” John asked. Sherlock nodded, still not have breath enough to do more.

“Good then it’s my turn.” At that he gripped Sherlock’s upper arm hard enough to leave bruises. “Brace yourself.” He maneuvered Sherlock to face the wall. Sherlock did what he was ordered, not sure what he could expect, but sure it could not be much good.

“It's my turn.” At this John spread Sherlock’s cheeks, letting his hard cock rut between them. 

“Lube,” Sherlock said, not sure if John was in the right state of mind not to do something stupid. 

“Sherlock, I don't need lube for what I'm going to do,” he said and at that he slowly pushed his wet finger inside Sherlock. Sherlock was torn between wanted to protest again and his lust filled mind telling him he was going to let John do whatever he wanted. His lust won and he was glad about that.

“Look at me.” Sherlock turned his head and watched as John gathered the come from his face and coated his cock with it. Sherlock wasn't sure if it was the hottest thing he had ever seen or the scariest, but either way this was no longer about him and he should let John have his release too.

“Close your legs,” John said Sherlock did as he was ordered. He felt a hand sneak between his legs wet with something slippery. 

“You do have lube?” he asked breathlessly.

“Nope, but my non-scented lotion works perfectly for what I'm about to do.”

At that Sherlock felt something blunt being pushed between his thighs and he realizes what John was doing. He rested his forehead on the tiles and let John have his way with him. He felt John's cock hit the back of his balls and felt his libido feeble stir and he knew that if John kept this on long enough Sherlock would come a second time. John kept moving quickly and it didn’t take him long to reach completion too. With a groan he came biting Sherlock’s shoulder hard. Sherlock was drawn between the sensation of John's come hitting his balls and the pain in his shoulder he knew would leave a glorious bruise. John finally let go of him and slid down beside him breathing hard. Sherlock carefully turned around and slit down beside him. 

“This was not how I had planned our first time,” John said, his eyes closed as he leaned back against the cold tiles.

“You planned our first time?” Sherlock asked surprised, because of all the things he had deduced about John, him being bisexual wasn't one of them.

“Yeah, I did a long time ago. Not recently though. We still need to talk,” John said, his eyes full on Sherlock. Sherlock nodded.

“You’re still angry with me,” Sherlock said.

“No shit.” Sherlock laughed. “I don't think I’ll ever not be angry about it, but having you back makes up for a lot.” 

“You tried to make me anger.”

“Yeah, I did, didn't I?” John said, looking seriously at Sherlock. “You know why?”

Sherlock shook his head, angry fucks he could deal with, but this was emotions and those were after all not his strongest part. 

“You came home and expected everything to be normal and then it wasn’t. There was no reaction, no happiness that I had not killed myself.” Sherlock sucked in a breath the thought of John committing suicide hit him hard. John put out his hand on Sherlock’s.

“There was no anger that I had not waited for you, no happiness I lived a good life without you.” Sherlock frowned; he had been annoyed, sad that John had moved on and no longer seemed to miss him, but as always he hid it deep below in a locked room in his mind palace, an locked room that was bursting at the seams by now.

“You just walked in, moved me back into the empty spot around you and it was like nothing had changed since you were back.”

“It isn’t like that,” Sherlock said.

“I know,” John said, “I saw your face when I mentioned suicide. I saw your face when you came. I wanted something from you. You were already giving just not in a way I understand. For this…” and at that he gestured between them, “to work we'll need to find away to help my need for comfort and emotions and your way of showing them.”

“You want this to work then?” Sherlock asked. John smiled in reply.

“More than anything.” At that he pushed Sherlock down on the cold floor, crawled on him and kissed him. Their kissing was interrupted with a sharp knock several minutes later.

“John, you didn’t kill him, did you? Not that I would mind, but it always takes so much time to clean up death bodies.”

John and Sherlock looked at each other.

And for the first time in more than two years they giggled together.


End file.
